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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851524">it's called liquid courage (so why do i feel stupid)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventilation/pseuds/ventilation'>ventilation</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Justice League vs. Teen Titans (2016), Reign of the Supermen (2019), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternative Universe - Different Timeline, Author Is Sleep Deprived, F/M, Light Drinking, The Author Regrets Everything, the author is very sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:14:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventilation/pseuds/ventilation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>who needs an acquired taste when hot chocolate tastes better?</p><p>or: conner tries to put the blame on the wine, but it turns out there might just be little bit more to it</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kon-El | Conner Kent &amp; Raven, Kon-El | Conner Kent/Raven, Raven/Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's called liquid courage (so why do i feel stupid)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Conner does <em> not </em> beg. He says his <em> please</em>s and <em> could you</em>s, all the boy-scout stuff, but he doesn’t <em> beg</em>—not for permission, not for mercy, not for <em> anything</em>. He either pushes through without authorisation or lets the entire matter go. (Though, there had been that time with the Eradicator pummelling him and he’d almost begged him to stop, but that doesn’t really count because almost begging doesn’t equate to <em> actual </em> begging.)</p><p>Well, apparently, there’s a first time for everything, and he feels the heat creep up to the tips of his ears as he blinks at her. <em> God, </em> is this shameful, but his desperation overrides his pride, and he clasps his hands together in front of him tightly, sounding almost like a whining puppy.</p><p>“To … a gala?” Raven asks, her words coming out slowly as though she hadn’t heard him well the first time. It might have been the case actually, what with him stumbling over his words as soon as she had opened the door of her room to his incessant knocking.</p><p>He rubs the back of his neck, and he realises how stiff his shoulders are from being drawn together in his pleading. “I’m … actually not sure what the thing is <em> for</em>, but Lex had called me twenty minutes ago. Says I’m needed and stuff,” Conner answers sheepishly, the burning in his face still ever present. “I just … I just want someone to come with me.”</p><p>A pause, and he watches as she gnaws at her bottom lip in thought. “Does it have to be me? How about Donna? Karen? Gar, Jaime, Wally? Literally<em> anyone else? </em>”</p><p>“The boys apparently have plans to go to that new shark movie premier, and Bee has patrol with Starfire tonight. And, as much as I love spending time with the Princess, she isn’t really … <em> y’know </em>,” he finishes lamely, hands motioning to the general direction of the common room where they could hear the Amazonian cheer loudly for Wally. Something about a foosball match, wordings blunt and bold and proud. “Lex’ parties are usually more for publicity than anything else, and I can’t really expect Donna to … not gain attention.” For the lack of a better term.</p><p>“Like you?” she asks, a bit of mirth peeking in her eyes, and he feels the stiffness of his body loosen up from the sight of her growing amusement.</p><p>“I don’t like sharing,” he shrugs, a smirk now playing on his face, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “And, I don’t think my friends from Smallville would take the whole <em> Conner-Kent-is-actually-Luthor’s-son-who-is-also-Superboy </em> all that well without probably exploding, so.”</p><p>She nods in understanding. “Okay, but what’s in it for me?”</p><p>“There’s music, light dancing, and, y’know, <em> good company </em> ,” he jabs both thumbs at himself, eyebrows wiggling. Her slightly amused face quickly falls flat, and the quick change makes him chuckle. “Or, not. I don’t know. I haven’t really been to a LexCorp party in a while, but all I do know is they’re usually <em> boring </em> without a friend. And … I would really, <em> really </em> appreciate it if you would come with me.”</p><p>Conner stops to analyse her face, hoping that his “sad boy” act is working. No such luck. Her face is still set in that blankness that only comes natural to her. He sighs, defeated. “<em> Fine </em>. I wasn't going to use it now, but desperate time calls for desperate measures, I guess.”</p><p>He stops, his eyes closed and one fist hand placed on his forehead. The whole thing is exaggerated for the theatricality of it, and Conner hears her mutter out, <em> “dramatic.” </em> He couldn’t help the grin when he finally relents his act and continues, “I wanna use my one favour ticket.”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The party is one word: <em> boring </em> . When Lex had called him up this morning to attend the charity event, he had expected as much, but <em> shit </em> . This is so <em> boring </em> . It’s all black ties and dresses and violins playing in the background, idle chatter and an even more <em> idle </em> speech. (“Your talk was great, Lex! Ten out of ten! And— What do you mean you caught me stuffing my face with food the entire time—”)</p><p>Even the wine is— He swirls the wine glass in his hand, and watches, almost hypnotised at the way it moves. Actually, the wine is good. Or, <em> bitter. </em> Is bitter wine good? He doesn’t really know. All he does know is it’s <em> disgusting </em> , rolling down his throat hotly. <em> Ugh </em>. That’s a good thing for alcohol, right?</p><p>Either way, at least it’s not boring.</p><p>“I never pegged you for a wine person.” Raven sidles beside him, returning from the few minutes she’d been gone to the lady’s room. He manages to bite back a snort at the remark.</p><p>“Yes,” he drawls, swirling the glass again. “I mean it’s difficult not to be, just the smell itself is <em> divine </em> . Summer grapes and just a hint of …” Conner takes a sniff. “ <em> Pine. </em>” Yeah, bullshit.</p><p>Raven laughs softly at his pretentiousness, the sound blending almost seamlessly with the music playing around, and he takes this moment to look at her through his periphery. She cleans up nicely, he observes, taking notice of the dress she wore and the hairstyle her hair had been pinned into. The first time he’d seen her, it had almost been shocking to the point of jaw-dropping. Not due to a sudden level-up on the beauty department, <em> heavens no </em> , because she’s already really pretty (—Raven’s pretty, okay? And, he says this not just because he likes girls, but Raven is just really attractive—), but more from the novelty of her wearing anything other than her leotard and cloak. (And, <em> no </em>, her civvies do not count, because that’s as much of a uniform to her as the rest of her superhero get-up.)</p><p>One—two—three moments, and he thinks that’s enough looking. “Okay, okay. I’m not a wine person, <em> whoopdeedoo </em>,” he confesses, feigning cheer. Dropping the pretence after she shakes her head at him, he cocks his head to the side and looks at the glass, growing more baffled as the time passes by, “I don’t really know why I’m even drinking this stuff.”</p><p>“How many did you have?”</p><p>“About two? I think,” Conner shrugs, before placing the half-finished drink on a passing waiter’s tray. “It’s gross, by the way.”</p><p>“It’s an acquired taste, Con,” Raven tells him, indirectly pointing at the fact that he’d only really just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago. Not really enough time to acquaint himself with alcoholic drinks to the point that they don’t taste like something pulled out of a sarcophagus. </p><p>(With villains off to do their dastardly deeds almost every other day—he’s almost sure they have schedules to avoid overlapping each other—and Kori explicitly banning all liquor products from the Tower ever since the <em> Muerto por Tequila </em> incident two years ago, it’s not really difficult to understand why he’s only been exposed to liquor twice, one of them being <em> now </em>.)</p><p>Conner shrugs. “Who needs an acquired taste when hot chocolate tastes a lot better?”</p><p>“You need to widen your beverage horizon, my good fr—”</p><p>The silence comes abruptly, her breath hitching at something—behind him? “You okay?” he asks when he turns to look over his shoulder and he finds nothing of alarm at the general area she’s staring at. There’s just a bunch of people, and <em> maybe </em> there’s that one blonde dude at the right staring at them, but <em> hey </em>. He could just be a reporter that thought he saw something in their little hiding spot behind two columns (—which is, to be honest, not the most excellent space to hide in considering how little cover they actually have, but no one had seemed to notice them for the span of half an hour they’d been hiding, so he’s not going to voice out his complaints—).</p><p>Raven shakes her head, “Yeah, it’s probably nothing.” He purses his lips together. <em> Nothing </em> his foot. She’s basically quivering like a leaf!</p><p>But. <em> But </em>. </p><p>She said it’s nothing and he knows better than to push on it, so he sighs and merely drops it. “Okay. How about some fresh air then?”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Sneaking outside a party is a lot more difficult than sneaking in, and Conner legitimately feels like he’d been living a lie. “Teen shows are <em> dishonest </em>.”</p><p>“What did you expect? It’s TV.”</p><p>The sky is dark, and the lack of stars twinkling above is not surprising. This is, after all, Metropolis, a thriving and bustling city somewhere in Kansas, and he’d lived here once— stared up at the starless sky for countless nights and slept some more without even being able to pinpoint where the moon was located. He knows better than to expect to see the dazzling array of heavenly lights.</p><p>Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s disappointed.</p><p>At least, the moon is out. That has to count for something.</p><p>Shrubberies of all sizes decorate the gardens, and he whistles appreciatively at a hedge with a rather complicated shape, and out loud, he wonders why the other gala attendees would rather be inside the stuffy hall and not out here, enjoying the closest thing they have to nature.</p><p>Raven hums beside him, but the evening breeze that flies their way drowns out the sound. In the corner of his eyes, he sees her shiver. </p><p>He shrugs off his jacket before placing it over her shoulders, offering her a smile when she looks at him in surprise. “You were cold,” Conner states as he fixes the collar, smoothing over the creases. The deep blue of the jacket doesn’t quite match the shade of indigo of her dress, but it doesn’t look that bad. Actually, as he takes a step back to look at her properly, it’s quite the contrar—</p><p>Oh. <em> Oh, wait </em>.</p><p>It’s one thing to see her all glitzed and glammed up: long, expensive dress with expensive shoes and expensive makeup that’s all probably Donna’s. Surprising? Well, yeah, but that’s to be expected.</p><p> However, it’s another thing to see her all glitzed and glammed up, bathed in the pale moonlight while he’s tipsy—or, at least, that’s what he thinks he is right now. His vision is clear and the world isn’t really buzzing, but despite the clarity and the lack of seeing and/or hearing things that aren’t there, he’s awfully aware of the fact that he’s <em> awfully aware of her </em>. From her eyelashes brushing her cheeks as they flutter open and shut, to the way her chakra stone gleams like garnet in the lack of light, to the gravel underneath her is crunching against the heel of her shoes. Is this the after effects of the wine?</p><p>If so, he might have to warn Clark next time that Luthor might have something other than Kryptonite that could affect him negatively in his arsenal. (And, no. Her wearing his jacket has no correlation to his current hyper-focus and hypersensitivity or whatsoever.)</p><p>“So,” she begins, rousing him from his thoughts. “Are we going to talk about the <em> real </em> reason why I’m here? Must be a pretty big reason to use the “you owe me” excuse.”</p><p>A weak laugh erupts from him, and Conner scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s not <em> that </em> big of a deal really,” he starts, and he’s not sure whether he prefers remembering the past over this odd want to <em> ogle </em> at her.</p><p>“It’s just that me and Lex haven’t really … been in the same space since Ma and Pa adopted me, and I just— When I was still <em> Superman 2.0 </em> , I had Donovan and Mercy with me in every ridiculous party. And, I know it’s a part of their job or whatever, but I was never alone then. But, since they—since they...” He breaks off, his voice faltering from the memories. They weren’t exactly the most … <em> wholesome </em> of people, but that doesn’t mean Conner didn’t like them. They are— <em> were </em> , he has to remind himself— <em> were </em> a part of his family. He runs his fingers through his hair. “I knew this night would be awkward, and I just didn’t want to be alone when I face Luthor. I was just <em> desperate </em> for it not to be awkward.”</p><p>“Oh,” Raven blinks. “Was it any less awkward?”</p><p>At her careful voice, he smiles. “Actually, yeah, it had been less awkward. Thank you. For being here with me,” Conner tells her as they come slowly to a stop, much too focused on their talk to register that their legs have decided to freeze on the spot. “I know you’re busy, and you could’ve told me no, considering how little time four hours is to prepare. But, you didn’t. So, thanks.”</p><p>“Also,” he continues on, setting aside the fact that he <em> might have </em> said too much. Conner moves to brush her hair out of her face, only to have him completely mesmerised by the way it feels. He didn’t expect it to be that silky, and he thoughtlessly threads two fingers through it. “I’m sorry, by the way. Donna must have surely put you through a wringer.”</p><p>“Actually, it’s all Bee. I’m not crazy enough to ask Donna for help.” The twinkle in her eyes reminds him of the stars, and unconsciously, he wonders about the constellations they form and the stories it tells.</p><p>“Smart girl.” A pause. “Maybe I should pay her, because that highlight is severely <em> popping </em>.” (He hopes he got the slang right.)</p><p>She laughs, and <em> oh. </em> That’s just unfair of her, isn’t it? How could she just pull that cutesy giggle like that out of the blue, crinkling her nose and eyebrows drawn up? That’s really just so— <em> so— </em></p><p>(<em> Oh, shit. </em>)</p><p>“Hey, Rae? If I told you I wanna kiss you, would you believe it’s from the alcohol?”</p><p>Her laugh is louder now, the sound wracking tremors all over her body, amusement painted so obviously on her face. “Sure,” she tells him once she is calm enough to respond with the crowfeet lining the side of her eyes. Presumably finding delight in his prior question. “But, I’m pretty sure you’re not drunk enough for that.”</p><p>Mm.</p><p>“Raven,” he whispers quietly, the fingers previously twirling strands of her hair now sliding to touch her jaw, forcing her to look at him clearly. To look at his probably red face, the probably twitching corner of his mouth, the probably glazed-look in his eyes—to his probably <em> everything </em>.</p><p>The perpetual half-smile half-smirk line of her mouth she’s always associated with is gone, a surprised “o” shape replacing it instead. It’s cute, and if he isn’t so invested in the trembling of her bottom lip, he would have noticed the way the pink flush of her cheeks darkened as her own eyes stray to his mouth.</p><p>“I want to kiss you.” He runs his tongue along his lower lip, before leaning forward, the scent of lavender and tea with the undertone of something sharp—something <em> dark </em> . He doesn’t know what it is, but it is absolutely dizzying.  <em>Tantalising</em>. It should be a sin, although, whatever <em> it </em> is is, he’s not totally quite certain. Conner just really wants to blame something for … <em> something. </em></p><p>He swallows. “Right here. Right now. Please, don’t make me beg.” Because, <em> oh god, oh fuck </em> , he’s absolutely sure he would if she told him to. He’d beg and plead and strip away his pride if it would mean he could get to kiss her, and <em> by god </em>, he wouldn’t mind it at all.</p><p>It takes her a moment to answer, the silence teasing him and, <em>fuck</em>, his resolve or pride or whatever is keeping him standing right now wavers and he wants to beg, his knees almost buckling from want and, <em>lord,</em> <em>what the heck was in that drink?</em></p><p>“Okay,” is what she whispers after what seems to be forever, the word slithering out of her like some sort of secret, hoarse and small, and he takes it—drinking in the sound as he presses his mouth on hers.</p><p>Despite being one of the more sociable charismatic members of the Teen Titans, Conner never really had his fair share of kisses. Sure, he’d been subjected to a few quick pecks here and there, stolen by fans or otherwise, but not as much nor as intimate as the tabloids and gossip sites have theorised he would have had over his three years of being a Titan.</p><p>(One article had even gone so far as to compare his experiences with Nightwing’s, like, come on. <em> Nightwing? </em> Nightwing’s love life is a mess that no one wants to solve—and, Conner’s is definitely <em> not </em> toe-to-toe with it. Not even by, like, a mile.)</p><p>So, naturally, the heat of their skin and the fervour and the intensity of their actions and him practically lifting her off the ground and pushing her up against the nearest tree is disorienting. The pressure slowly building inside of him as she lets him angle her head back just a little to deepen the kiss further is disorienting. Feeling her hands roam up his back and his fingers curling around the swell of her hip and the side of her jaw is disorienting. Everything about this is <em> disorienting </em>.</p><p>He had never been so intimate with someone before, and doing <em> all </em> of that is terrifying? Thrilling?</p><p>It’s just so … <em> natural </em> . Instinctual, and he’s lost to the surging emotions that are slowly breaking down the thoughts of rationality telling him he shouldn’t be doing this— <em> to her </em>. </p><p>(<em> I want you I want you I want I want you want you so much I want you— </em>)</p><p>(If Ma and Pa Kent could see him now, he doesn’t know if his superspeed could hide him fast enough from their imminent wrath and disappointment.)</p><p>They break off, gasping for air, but it doesn’t take him long to claim her lips again, letting the burning fire within them continue burning and the world around them turn into ashes. He could get used to this whole time-and-space-is-nonexistent-outside-of-this-moment thing, and his whole body hums. He could get used to this.</p><p>“Conner,” she gasps into his mouth after what felt like an eternity, and he grunts, feeling her fingernails dig through the fabric of his shirt and into his skin. Conner breaks away slowly, panting, letting his forehead fall to the conjuncture of her shoulder and neck. </p><p>He could hear the faint thumping of her pulse, and he has to squash down the want to leave a mark down on that exact spot, gritting his teeth as he lets the sound drum in his ear temptingly. There had been a sense of urgency in her voice when she called him, and he still has a tiny bit of self-control telling him to stop, even if it is slowly vanishing each passing second he has her in his arms.</p><p>“Yeah?” he chokes out as he runs circles and other unnameable shapes on her back. Conner feels her shiver at a certain spot between her shoulder blades, and his fingers still, hovering. He could use that information sometime later—</p><p>Not that there would be a later. Nope, no later. <em> None. </em>(The heavy feeling in his gut isn’t disappointment, and anyone who says so is wrong.)</p><p>“If we keep this up, somebody is bound to see us,” Raven answers breathlessly. He has to force his eyes shut when he realises he had been unconsciously counting the puffs of white breath that came out of it, burying his face deeper into her shoulder. “You said you didn’t like sharing the attention?”</p><p>The mess of a scent is still there, but he could find hints and traces of a familiar heady cologne when he takes in a breath. <em> His </em> cologne. The information hits him like a brick, sending his own heart skittering.</p><p>(<em> Get it together, Kon-el! </em>)</p><p>And, <em> ah </em> , right. Media. Paparazzi. <em> Right. </em>“I don’t.”</p><p>His voice is … <em> embarrassing </em>, to say the least, but she doesn’t comment on how it had sounded closely like a wounded animal. Instead, Raven gives him a small smile when he finally takes his head away from her shoulder. It’s not one of her best smiles, but he doesn’t mind. Her smiling is enough of a victory in itself.</p><p>A sudden brush of the cold evening wind makes him shudder, goosebumps rising up his skin instantaneously. In his periphery, Conner could see her pulling his jacket closer to her body, probably an attempt to stay warm.</p><p>They should probably get back to the party. The corners of his mouth tug in a half-hearted grin. “As much as it had been … <em> fun </em> out here, we really should get back inside before we freeze to death.”</p><p>His necktie feels loose and his shirt is all rumpled up, but that’s an easy fix. Her hair, on the other hand, may need a little more than brushing, and he shoots her an apologetic look. </p><p>Or, at least, he hopes it’s apologetic, because it’s turning out to be so <em> fucking </em> difficult to feel sorry for messing her hair and lipstick up—</p><p>He slaps his face, before turning around, looking at absolutely anything but her. Privacy. She needs privacy to sort herself out, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t even give that to her.</p><p>So, he fiddles with his tie in the meantime, waiting until she taps his shoulder lightly and nods her head: “I’m done.”</p><p>The complete journey from there to the doors leading back to the party takes them about fifteen steps—round the tall hedge they’d been hiding at and then continue walking straight, and—<em> wait </em>. Had they really been making out at such a close distance?</p><p>Conner winces at the heightened possibility of someone seeing them, scuffing his shoe on something in the process. He wouldn’t be all too shocked if a picture of theirs would be circulating in the internet by tomorrow morning. Beside him, Raven notices him contemplating his fate, and with a chuckle, jokes, “Well, better be prepared to beg for Luthor for mercy in case, huh?”</p><p>“Ugh.”</p><p>He doesn’t like begging, and he’s most certainly <em> not </em> fond of the idea of prostrating in front of Luthor, pleading with him to pardon his risky actions. Risky actions that he wouldn’t mind begging for her permission to repea—</p><p>Okay, <em> no </em> . Nope. Stop that. <em> Stop that </em>.</p><p><em> God </em> , what the fuck is wrong with him? Conner had never really seen Raven as a prospect for a romantic partner, let alone a <em> physical </em> partner, so why the change of heart? And, no, it’s not even the wine, because <em> come on </em> . Although he’s human, he’s also a Kryptonian—who, by the way, should have some high tolerance to alcohol in their DNA or something. So, <em> all of this </em>is just too weird.</p><p>(You can’t just have that sudden connection with someone—at least, not without breaking out into a love song with a flashmob dancing in the background. … <em> Boy </em>, does he need to stop comparing movies and telenovelas with real life.)</p><p><em> And— </em>And, here’s the real-kicker.</p><p><em> Damian likes her </em> . Damian Wayne, the insufferable brat, likes her. Not that Damian explicitly told him—or <em> anyone, </em> for that matter, (—because, let’s face it, that Robin would rather plunge a sword into his chest rather than talk about his feelings—) but they don’t really need to hear his confession with the way he acts around her. It’s actually quite stupidly cute seeing him interact with her, and <em> oh god </em>. Conner screwed up.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck. </em>
</p><p>He pulls her arm, effectively stopping her from taking one more step. “Raven, y’know, the kiss—it—I wasn’t—“</p><p>Why did the light shining through the windows have to play on her face and make her skin glow? Why did the shadows have to dip over the hollow of her neck and the angles of her exposed collar bone? Why did his jacket have to look <em> so </em> oddly off-hue with her dress?</p><p>
  <em> Why did she have to be so pretty? </em>
</p><p>(Damian likes her. Damian likes <em> Raven </em> . Damian likes—Ah, <em> fuck it. </em>)</p><p>Ah, <em> fuck it. </em> (A second time, because, y’know, <em> for emphasis </em> and whatnot.)</p><p>The kiss this time is soft and short, a blooming warmth spreading on his lips even as he retracts. Her hands fly up to her forehead, fingers grazing the area in between her eyebrows. Something explodes in the background, and he laughs.</p><p>If Lex Luthor has enough money to cover for all the expenses he had caused in the many years he’d been living with his past Superman issues, he could deal with a little bit of property damage.</p><p>“Should I believe that to be the alcohol as well?” she asks slowly, her expression still surprised and her fingers still on her forehead.</p><p>“No. That’s all me.”</p><p>(You do not kiss your friend’s best friend, especially if said friend has a major crush on said best friend. You just do <em> not. </em>)</p><p>(But, apparently, Conner is stupid.)</p><p>--</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this had been written in between so many things and it got out of hand. revision (for chap1 at least) is planned sometime in the future, but hopefully this hadn't been too much of a sucky version</p></blockquote></div></div>
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